The Only Choice
by The Brightest Fly
Summary: Some decisions are made long before the choice is set. And what threat hides within an empty mind with a hidden past?
1. Default Chapter

**The Only Choice**  
Part One: Of Rivendell 

The sun above shone onto the village. The collection of buildings seemed more like an especially sculptured piece of the forest than any city shaped by man. Threads of sunlight twisted into brilliant colours in the stone and gems that made up the buildings, and Rivendell was a captured rainbow. 

Elrond gazed upon it, and saw nothing but the darkness beyond. He had recently come out of a conversation with Gandalf, the Wizard still recovering his strength, both in a physical sense and in a more intangible one. Even the Istari had traitors in their ranks, and the blow of losing Saruman to the Dark Lord was a harsh one. The White Wizard was a powerful being, and with his shift of allegiance there were suddenly too many enemies for his people to face, from too many directions.

Elrond moved to another window in the large room, this one facing west. The view was the same, but his thoughts drifted towards the sea, and what lay beyond. How easy it would be to gather the Elves and escape the shores of Middle-earth. Let Sauron take that piece of the world, and be safe in the undying lands, protected by a power much greater than his evil one. Already his people had begun the migration, almost an instinct inscribed in them. His wife had gone, leaving their children and him, who had still harboured a loyalty for the continent. He imagined rejoining her with his sons, but when he thought of his daughter, he knew his family would never again be whole.

"I know I must lose you," he whispered to himself, "but I will not abandon you to the darkness."

With new resolve he left the room. The corridors were tall and exposed to the weather. The light danced along their walls, tracing over the thin runes carved into the polished surface. He headed towards Gandalf again. The Wizard had spoken of a hope almost more terrible than having none at all, but Elrond trusted in the wisdom of his friend, in a time when trust came seldom and at high cost.

The corridor opened suddenly, structure giving way to garden. In the centre of green bushes and tiny flowers was a stone fountain of exquisite detail; however, it was the figure before it that drew his attention. Deep red hair fell onto a faded tunic which obscured her stance. She seemed not to notice his arrival, but Elrond knew better. 

He approached her, but even when he stopped beside her she didn't move. He looked down to the pooled water. There he saw a vision, shifting slowly with the tiny surface ripples, of a small face with thick lips and wide eyes, as silver as the water reflecting them. He met her gaze in the natural mirror, and only then did she acknowledge him.

"You were thinking about her again," she said.

Elrond sighed and sat on the edge of the fountain. "Silglin," he said, "We were married. I loved her for a very long time."

The girl turned her head towards him. "You still do."

The Elf moved one hand in a circular gesture. "I cannot wholly separate myself from my past. That does not mean I live within it."

He raised his eyes to hers. Her face was set in an open expression, but any emotions which might have been shown through her eyes were reflected back within herself by her silver irises. Except for those, she appeared human, yet Elrond couldn't read beyond her words. Her mind was as shut to him as her eyes.

"I don't have the past. I only have now, and maybe the future. But when I think about it, all I can imagine is you." She smiled slightly. "Tell me you feel the same."

The smile made her eyes seem at once flat and deep, like sunlight on a lake. Looking into them, Elrond felt his own impossible fantasy - himself and his children, all of them, again with their mother and almost happy - slip from his mind. 

"I do," he said. And it was the truth.

*

Who Silglin really was, none knew, least of all herself. She had been found in the forest near Rivendell with nothing but a torn robe, and holding the memories of only a few days before she had been found. They had thought her to be a young human girl, but almost immediately she had displayed a powerful magic. She had seemed as surprised as they to discover it. Elrond had taken it upon himself to help her discover the depth of that power. 

Over the weeks, she had grown stronger and gained control over her gifts, with the Elf-lord's help. When he was with her, Elrond found the world seemed a little bit different. Millennia of memory blurred until it became something he could find comfort in, instead of only experience. It was a challenge to get to know someone when even her most powerful emotions were hidden, and especially when she didn't even know herself. But it was a challenge he was willing to face, and their new friendship became something much stronger.

She couldn't tell them her name, so the Elves called her Silglin, which means "gaze of bright silver" in their language.

*

When they entered his chamber, Gandalf was standing tall and looking intently at something only he saw. "The Nazgul are nearing," he said.

"I know," Elrond said. "I can feel it."

"As can I," Silglin added.

Gandalf frowned down at her for a moment, but his expression soon softened. He continued staring through the wall. "They pursue him of whom I told you, but I cannot find much relief in the knowledge he too is close to Rivendell. He cannot avoid them."

"I have sent out the most powerful of my people to find your small friend and his companions. They ride our swiftest horses. One of them will succeed."

"Perhaps," Gandalf said. "But for this prize the Nine would risk anything. They would chase it to Valinor had we the power to get it there." Elrond's jaw set in understanding. "Does the River Bruinen still do as you bid?"

"You know it does. But I do not usually ask so much of it. I will need your help in this, old friend."

"I offer my help as well," Silglin said. Elrond nodded solemnly in acceptance.

*

Elves do not need grand magic to perform grand miracles, they only need know how to ask. The nine Ringwraiths were the servants of the Dark Lord, who desired all of Middle-earth to be barren. It took few words, spoken softly by Elrond in a dialect few even of the Eldar knew, to convince the waters to rise against them.

Then Gandalf lifted his arms to the sky and bellowed in a different speech. His voice echoed about them, and as he spoke the water began to move and shape itself. Silglin glared at him when he was finished. "You have wasted your energy sculpting when you should have been forging. We need a weapon, not a statue of water!"

Elrond was startled at her outburst. "Much power comes from beauty in one's craft. I had thought you understood-"

"More power comes from power," she interrupted. She screamed one word, long and broken. The air became filled with a static heat, and the water of the river grew turbulent beneath the surface. Gandalf's shapes, which had begun to vaguely resemble horses, seemed skittish.

Now Gandalf frowned. "You have woven an impatient magic. I hope it is content to wait."

"It will wait."

The three walked back to the Elven-village, golden under the setting sun. There they found song and food, but Elrond partook in neither. He stared out the window facing the river, and watched the night deepen around him. Elves are most comfortable under the soft light of the stars, but as the day faded a different sort of darkness spread through the forest. It was enough that a shadow of its might crept past the invisible barriers shielding Rivendell, and the music faltered in the great hall as it touched those within. He focussed his energies on strengthening the borders of his land and gently dissipating the despair that had found a way through. The music became loud again, louder than it had been before, and he recognized the song as a lament to Elbereth: a story of those who had found victory by her guiding light.

There was a movement behind him, and he turned to find Silglin looking at him from the door. He gestured an invitation. 

"I was worried," she said. "You've been avoiding everyone since this afternoon." Her lips raised into a smile. "You tend to brood when alone."

"There is much to think about," Elrond countered. He looked again to the window, and listened to the energy of the charged waters.

Silglin stepped in front of him. "We have done all that we can." He looked down at her eyes, almost glowing in the faint illumination, and felt much of his anxiety soften into a new emotion. The stirring of the river and the winding song joined into a harmony.

He glanced towards the west, but immediately his eyes were drawn back to the girl before him. "Waiting is always the hardest," he said.

Her smile deepened at his words. "Perhaps we can think of something to help us pass the time."

He came towards her then, a strange desperation in his movement, and the strains of music and energy became rhythm. When, in the morning, the water finally loosed its rage and buried the Nine under its frothing tides, it seemed an outcome of their passion. 

* * * * * 

Author notes: Like all fair tales of the time of the Rings, this one is doomed to end in sorrow. And yet, if you wish, I shall continue. 

Perhaps little happiness can be inspired by a story bereft of hope, but my inspiration lies in your words of encouragement and criticism. 

So, please leave a message after the button, and I will get back to this as soon as possible. 


	2. Leaving

*

It was Gandalf's watch when Frodo awoke. He seemed reluctant to leave his prolonged slumber, and was disorientated in his strange surroundings. The Wizard smiled at the hobbit, but he was worried about the subtle translucency of his skin and the lack of warmth in his left arm. Elrond, with the help of Silglin, had fixed his wound, given to him by the Witch-king himself, but it was the nature of the small being that had allowed him to survive. But Gandalf feared that that recovery was only a temporary circumstance, and that Frodo would remain forever changed.

The Wizard would have liked nothing better than to sit and talk with his friend until he understood just what he had accomplished, bringing the ring he bore to the haven of Rivendell. But there were preparations to be made and peoples to contact, and through Gandalf explained as much as he could, it was too soon when he had to leave him.

Representatives from many of the peoples of Middle-earth were gathering at Rivendell - from the realms of Mirkwood in the east, and Gondor in the south, and Wilderland in the North. Elves and dwarves and men discussed old relations and solemn things, and among them were the hobbits, amazed at the events and people they saw. Gandalf was often found with Elrond, and Silglin seldom left the Elf-lord. When he called a great council to decide the course of events, these two powers were seated by his side.

Gandalf talked at length to those gathered, but Silglin said little. The council was long, and Frodo, still unnaturally pale, was frightened by all he learned. Elrond explained the only way he could see to defeat the ever growing power of Sauron, and at once argument broke out. For this way was to bring the One Ring into the heart of the Dark Lord's territory, and while none wanted to risk all in such a quest, they didn't trust it to any other. Finally Frodo volunteered himself. He understood least of all the dangers he accepted, but it is often that such ignorance is necessary for brave acts.

Later, Elrond, Gandalf and Silglin met in a smaller council of their own to decide what companions the hobbit should have in his journey.

"There must be nine," Elrond decided after a long debate. "It would be foolish to believe that an angered river could defeat the Ring-wraths for ever, and often balanced numbers can make up for unbalanced forces.

"Among them must be an elf, a dwarf, and a man, else the forgotten race would oppose the fellowship." He paused in thought. "Thranduil's son will do, and Glóin's, if they accept the danger."

"For the man, I can think of none better than Aragorn, son of Arathorn," Gandalf said, and Elrond nodded slowly in agreement.

"That gives us five," Elrond said, "including the halfling and his servant, who I doubt will leave him even in this."

"Six," Gandalf corrected. "I think I will go with them. I can foretell that there will be use for one of the Wise on this journey, if little else is clear."

"I believe the ringbearer should decide those remaining," Elrond said. "There are Elf-lords in Rivendell who would go, if he wishes. Glorfindel is one he may be willing to trust."

"Let him decide the remaining two members of the company; the third is right here," said Silglin, who had been silent a while. "I have a power that, when combined with that of Gandalf, would go far in ensuring the success of the task."

"No. You do not understand the danger ahead," said Elrond. "You don't even understand fully the power you possess."

"Neither does the hobbit," Gandalf pointed out.

Elrond looked between the two. Silglin smiled up at him and said, "I know you're worried for me. But I can feel the darkness building, even in this protected land. I can defend myself, and if you allow me, I can defend the others."  When he didn't reply she added, "If this quest fails, I am still lost, but the whole of Middle-earth will go with me."

"Frodo will decide," Elrond said again. Then he left the others before Silglin could succeed in changing his mind.

*

As it happened, Frodo did not have much of a choice in his travelling companions. Aragorn wished to journey with Boromir, a man of Gondor who was going the same way, and Merry and Pippin refused to let their friend leave without them. And so was the fellowship - four hobbits, two men, a dwarf, an elf, and a Wizard - that would deliver for all time the world from the evil of Sauron, the Dark Lord; or that would return his greatest source of power to him, and thereby doom all they wished to save.

Elrond stood alone and watched as they left in the evening, having offered all the advice and other help he could. He stared after them until they had long faded from his eyes, watching with more vague senses. At last he moved to return to his home, and saw behind him Silglin. She didn't call out, but only watched impassively as he approached her. There was a light pack over her shoulder.

"So you would not trust my will," he whispered as he stopped beside her.

Silglin lowered her head. "I couldn't stand not saying goodbye."

"You shouldn't have needed to."

"I'm going to follow behind them. The fellowship will remain nine, as you wanted, but they may need my help," she continued. "They will find powerful enemies."

"Their quest shall not be completed with power!" 

At Elrond's hard tone, she lifted her head and glared up at him. "Yet it may fail for lack of it."

As he looked down upon her, Elrond knew she would not allow him to stop her. His anger subsided and was replaced by a heavy sadness. "Power of all things draws his notice," he reminded.

"I know. But I'll do what I must." Her face softened then. "Come with me," she said. The Elf did not reply. "I don't want to leave you, and two strong allies are of more use than one. Come with me."

Elrond looked into her strange eyes, and imagined them closing forever. He saw her overcome by an enemy less powerful than her, perhaps, but lucky or sly; and he knew that he could have prevented it, had he not remained in Rivendell. "Please," she whispered, and he remembered that he loved her, and that she was only leaving without him if he refused to come.

He kissed her, and made up his mind to go with her, but when he spoke he said, "I can not. My people are here, and they depend on my support. Do what you will."

And then, even through she was the one about to set out, he left her. He didn't want to see the tears in her eyes, even as they were building in his own. He knew, though his words were painful, that they were the right ones; and he knew that if she had asked him again, he would have forgotten them.

*


End file.
